


Backstage Sluts 9

by Beauregard_Q_Smuttington



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Backstage, Biting, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cock Slapping, Crossdressing, Crossover, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dressing Room Sex, Face-Fucking, Furry, Gay Robots, Gender Identity, M/M, Prostitution, Robot Sex, Robots, Rough Sex, Smoking, Transformation, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beauregard_Q_Smuttington/pseuds/Beauregard_Q_Smuttington
Summary: Damien attends a Mettaton concert, and will do just aboutanythingto get backstage and meet his idol.
Relationships: Damien LaVey/Ice Wolf, Damien LaVey/Mettaton
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. The Wolfening

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, it's been a hot minute. The last one took a lot out of me. Back for now, with this and at least one more that's been on the back burner since before I started Fucktoberfest. Some Legend of Korra naughtiness that's proving challenging, but I swear I will eventually finish.
> 
> Warning: If the use of homophobic slurs in the context of degrading dirty talk really bothers you, you may wanna skip this chapter.

Damien practically vibrated with excitement in his seat, gripping the armrests tightly, his tail coiled around his leg to keep it from flicking and twitching . Vera, sitting beside him, smiled at his goofy little enthralled expression. She was enjoying the show, but was getting far more amusement out of seeing Damien trying so hard not to unambiguously fanboy over the star.

Vera enjoyed Mettaton’s music a fair bit, but admired the androgynous robot idol more for his business sense than his star power. Besides being a worldwide star of stage and screen ─ a singer, TV host and occasional actor ─ Mettaton ran a very successful business empire consisting of merch, luxury resorts, a fashion line, a production company and a smattering of other side-projects. His branding was _on-point_.

From the rapturous expression on Damien’s face and the tent in his jeans, however, it was clear he had much simpler motivations for loving the bot belting out a hit on-stage in front of a screaming, sold-out stadium. It was his fourth encore, and this time he really meant it when he said he wouldn’t be back. He took a bit longer than the last few times in thanking everyone for coming out, wishing them a good night and telling them to get home safely…and, of course, that he’d see them all next time.

Damien pumped a fist in the air as he exploded out of his seat with hype. He would’ve taken off running had they not been blocked in by a massive crowd in every direction, which was slowly and chaotically beginning to file out of the rows of seats towards the exits. “Wasn’t that fuckin’ amazing?!” As much of a boner as he may have had for Mettaton, he couldn’t help but admire Vera’s legs as he walked behind her at a jerky pace to match the shuffling crowds. She was wearing a short black dress that would’ve been suitable for hitting the club, with a blazer over it that made it just look like a black skirt ─ a versatile outfit that worked for different settings.

“It was something, alright,” Vera replied, her voice raised enough that she could be heard over the crowd noise without having to turn her head and call back over her shoulder. “I preferred _Heartbeats & Hard Drives_, but _System Crash_ is still a very solid album overall. His stage presence is undeniable.”

Her ability to rationally discuss the relative merits of any one part of Mettaton’s body of work versus another was utterly alien to Damien, whose favorite album was ‘all of them’ and who had headbutted people for saying anything that could’ve been perceived as negative about his idol. He had initially offered his other ticket to Valerie, whose appreciation for the star was a little closer to his own level of rabid fandom. They’d been to another of his concerts together a few years ago, during which she’d flashed the stage and screamed that she wanted to have Mettaton’s babies. Val had reluctantly been unable to attend due to a previous commitment to help her dad with something, and has suggested Damien ask Vera. Vera was a casual fan, and had graciously accepted the invitation, but it wasn’t quite the same as having a fellow stan to geek out with.

“I guess,” he agreed noncommittally in response to Vera’s album comparison. He was so smitten with the star that whether he was putting out bubblegum pop or grungy industrial synth-metal, Damien was just as riveted. “Hey, what do you think our odds are of persuading Calculester to install a pyrotechnics cannon in his chest? Like the one Mettaton used tonight. Preferably before the next talent show.”

“Aren’t you and Scott kind of his dads? If anyone could talk him into it, it ought to be you two. Just don’t install anything yourselves if you do, alright? Get it done somewhere reputable. You two are…oh, how do I say this without hurting your feelings?” She tapped a finger thoughtfully to her chin before it occurred to her that she didn’t care. “You’re dumb and reckless and I don’t trust your judgement, and I don’t want you to hurt that sweet boy.”

“Hey, what the fuck is that supposed to-” They’d reached the end of their row of seats, not quite front row but near enough that he could’ve hit Mettaton if he’d lobbed a rock. Not that he’d ever dream of assaulting one of his heroes in that manner ─ ‘can I hit it with a thrown rock from here’ was merely Damien’s default mental means of calculating distance. As he’d been about to demand a retraction from Vera, he heard a wolf-whistle from behind him.

Short but loud and sharp enough to cut through the crowd chatter, Vera and a dozen other people in the immediate vicinity also turned their heads to investigate its source. It was Damien, however, with whom the tall, strapping wolf-man guarding the stage door was making eye contact. A _literal_ wolf-whistle, it turned out. Damien pointed a finger to his chest and mouthed ‘Me?’ to which the black wolf nodded, curling a finger beckoningly.

He exchanged a look with Vera, who shrugged and followed him as he turned and forced his way upstream through the flow of foot traffic to the short metal staircase leading up to the backstage door marked ‘Authorized Access Only’. The black-furred wolf-man wasn’t a werewolf, just a burly anthropomorphic wolf wearing dark blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt with ‘EVENT STAFF’ on it in yellow block letters, which flatteringly hugged his broad, muscular chest and shoulders. Damien instinctively straightened his spine, pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, trying to compensate a tad for how much the man dwarfed him. “The fuck you want?”

The wolf flashed a predatory smirk, his pearly white fangs glinting as he pulled at the lanyard tailing out of his back pocket, dangling it from his fingertip to reveal a laminated all access backstage pass affixed to the clip at the end, hovering and slowly swaying back and forth an inch from Damien’s face. “Hey, that any way to talk to someone who was gonna ask if you wanted to get backstage, prettyboy?”

“OH SHIT!” Damien clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. It was a little late to play it cool now. He turned to Vera for confirmation that this was really happening. As with the rest of the evening, she didn’t near _his_ level of excitement, but she had raised a brow skeptically. She knew there was no such thing as a free lunch. Playing it cool on Damien’s behalf, she crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to her back foot, looking the wolf up and down with a thoroughly unimpressed expression as she asked, “How much?” Damien rarely carried much cash because he always spent it on the first dumb thing he saw, so if it was out of his price range this might affort her an opportunity to have him owe her a considerable favor.

The wolf clucked his tongue and shook his head, rotating his wrist slowly to wind the lanyard more securely around two fingers a few times. “The boss pays me well enough already. You and your little boyfriend here are kinda cute, though…” He met her eyes with unapologetic hunger, his long canine tongue darting out to lick his lips, while hooking a thumb under the waistband of his jeans to not so subtly draw focus to the rather girthy bulge in his jeans.

Vera sneered, her snakes hissing threateningly. Ugh, _men._ “Yeah, no. I’m out of your price range, fleabag. Let’s go, Damien.” Nose in the air, she turned and walked haughtily away, for about five paces before she noticed he wasn’t following her. She turned back to find him still planted where he’d been, eyeing that dangling pass like a hypnotist’s pocket watch while the wolf looked him hungrily up and down. “ _Damien!_ ”

“Huh?” He snapped out of it and turned to look at her. She was now holding up and jingling the car keys. Oh, right-…he’d provided the tickets, so she’d offered to drive and pay for parking. She was his ride home. His head snapped back and forth between her and the wolf indecisively, biting his lip before he waved her away. “It’s fine, you take off. I’ll Schlep home.” He was referring, of course, to the ubiquitous rideshare app Schlep.

She rolled her eyes. Unbelievable. Her expression conveyed that she wasn’t angry, just disappointed in him, which of course felt so much worse. She wasn’t about to stand here and try to lecture him out of it, though. He was a grown-ass man capable of making his own poor life choices and dealing with the consequences. Heaving a sigh, she capitulated. “Whatever. Just-…text me later to let me know you got home okay.”

“Yes, ****mom**** ,” he replied mockingly but with affection. She smiled as she flipped him off, turning and vanishing into the crowd. He was jolted out of his musings about what a good friend she was by a large, rough hand slapping his ass and lingering to give a firm squeeze. His cheeks flushed a darker red as he glanced back up at the wolf. He didn’t bottom often, but the massive wolf’s intimidating presence looming over him, his complete confidence and animal sexuality…yeah, he already knew that he was going to let the much larger man do pretty much whatever he wanted to him, and more than likely enjoy it.

“Come on, then,” the wolf growled, clamping his hand over the scruff of Damien’s neck and guiding him up the stairs. Banging on the metal door twice with a massive fist, it opened from the inside and another security guard ─ this one an older minotaur with grey creeping into his brown fur, and a bit of a beer but but still possessing the most jacked arms Damien had ever seen ─ peeked out to look down at them. The wolf cocked his head to the side to indicate Damien; the minotaur snorted, and by unspoken arrangement held the door open for them to pass him and then stepped down to take the wolf’s place on the other side.

They now stood in a rather unglamorous access hallway, all visible wall and ceiling supports and dimly lit by grungy old fluorescent lighting hanging high overhead ─ far removed from the lounges for VIPs to schmooze most people associated with ‘backstage’. Damien glanced around for a moment before he felt the wolf’s hands descend upon his shoulders, huffing a bit as he was forced roughly to his knees on the cold concrete.

The wolf was unbuckling his belt as Damien glanced up at him, undoing his fly, and unceremoniously fishing out his rather intimidating cock. Sleek jet black, a meaty and thick ten inches or so even without being fully hard, he slapped it down over Damien’s stunned features and growled, “Get to it, cocksucker.”

Not needing to be told twice, he straightened himself up a bit and opening wide, he closed his lips around the plump head, swirling his tongue and wrapping his hands around the girth of the shaft and beginning to jerk the wolf off into his mouth with slow, firm strokes. The wolf gave a mildly approving grunt as he lit a cigarette, replacing his metal lighter and flip-top pack in his side pocket before placing a firm hand atop Damien’s head.

That gorgeous cock was quickly approaching full stiffness, and beginning to ooze clear, slick precum over Damien’s tongue. He let out a muffled little ‘mmlph-’ as he slurped eagerly up and down on it, sliding one hand down the base of the shaft to cup and fondle the wolf’s heavy, full balls while the other hand continued stroking up and down its length. He kept his golden eyes turned upwards, and the wolf grinned lecherously down at him with the cigarette dangling out of one side of his mouth, exhaling smoke from his nostrils.

“Mmm…that’s it, honey. Look right up here,” the wolf rumbled while burying his fingers in Damien’s hair and tightening his grip. “Pretty little sumbitch, ain’tcha? You’re definitely the boss’s type.” He saw the wonder in Damien’s eyes as he planted the seed that Mettaton would like him, wanting to make him all the more eager to please. “But you can take it deeper than that, can’t you?”

That hand atop his head applied firm pressure and slowly pushed him down. Damien gagged as that fat cock stuffed its way into his throat, his eyes watering and his eyelids fluttering a bit. He placed his hands against the wolf’s powerful, muscular thighs to steady himself, but didn’t try to push away, just forced himself to endure it.

“Gooood boy,” the wolf groaned approvingly, his cock throbbing as it slid down the demon prince’s throat. It wasn’t Damien’s first time deepthroating, and by swallowing he was eventually able to get his gag reflex somewhat under control, but he was far from proficient enough to be able to do it effortlessly like true practicioners of the noble art.

The wolf groaned, gripping Damien’s one unbroken horn as a convenient handlebar while keeping the other buried in his hair, and began to buck his hips, fucking the boy’s face and stuffing half of that fat cock down his throat with each thrust. Damien gagged and gurgled, drool escaping the corners of his lips and running down off of his chin to spatter in droplets on the concrete floor between his knees. He didn’t tap out against the wolf’s thigh or try and pull back even as his lungs began to ache for want of air, out of pure stubbornness. The burly security guard evidently had enough sense for both of them, however. Once he noticed the hitching shudders of the younger male’s chest, he pulled back and hauled his dick free to slap it down over half of Damien’s face.

Damien coughed and gasped for breath as the wolf stroked his cock, now slick and glistening with saliva, and slapped it against his cheek. His other hand reached up for the cigarette that had been dangling from the side of his mouth, holding it off to one side and flicking the ashes from the tip before replacing it. He then positioned that swollen cockhead against Damien’s lips, growling down at him. “Open wide, faggot.”

Damien bristled a little at that. Intellectually, he was offended. He’s never understood the whole ‘it isn’t gay if you’re the one topping’ mindset. However, illogical and offensive or not, he couldn’t deny that being degraded in that manner made his cock _throb_ and strain against his jeans, and he opened wide, rolled his tongue out and said ‘ah’ like a good little cocksucker.

He was ‘rewarded’ by having that dark, veiny cock jabbed back down his throat, deeper than before. This time the wolf didn’t stop until he was grinding his balls against Damien’s chin. He gagged hard, his eyes rolling back a bit, his neck bulging obscenely around that considerable girth. The wolf’s predatory grin down at him widened as he began to fuck Damien’s face in earnest. As much as he would have enjoyed taking his time with the demon, really putting him through his paces, he was going to have to wrap it up in a timely manner and get back to work. Thus, he used the boy’s mouth like a Fleshlight, with a singular focus on getting himself off.

“Nnnghff-…that’s it, bitch. Take Daddy’s fuckin’ cock.” He huffed and talked dirty while pumping his hips at a steady, vigorous pace. His cock throbbed and twitched tellingly as it pistoned down Damien’s throat, as the wolf worked himself closer and closer to release. Those heavy balls swung pendulously and clapped against Damien’s chin each time he hilted himself, watching those pouty red lips stretch tight around the root of his shaft.

Damien didn’t have much agency at the moment, but used what little he had to great effect. He stroked his hands up and down those muscular thighs, pressed his tongue firmly against the underside of that shaft as it blurred in and out of his mouth and throat, and gazed up at the lustful brute defiling him with watering eyes that pushed the wolf’s sadism buttons effectively enough that after a minute or two he was snarling and obviously at the edge of climax.

“ _Fuck_. Here it comes, boy. Take…it… ** **all****!” Ramming his hips forward one final time, he buried his cock down Damien’s throat, feeling it pulse around his throbbing cock as he came down the prince’s gullet. He wouldn’t have minded pulling out and giving the pretty boy a huge, messy facial, but it wouldn’t do to make a mess of him before sending him to meet the boss.

Damien could feel that engorged cock swelling even thicker, twitching and pouring warm seed down his throat. It gave seven or eight big, throbbing spurts before the wolf started to pull back, just shy of the head clearing his lips, and stroked the shaft to milk the last of his cum out over Damien’s tongue. As he pulled it out with a wet little pop, Damien swallowed before opening his mouth again and rolling out his tongue to show off that he hadn’t wasted a drop.

“Hoo boy…god _damn_ ,” the wolf chuckled down at him, slapping his cheek playfully with that softening but still enormous cock before he wrestled it back into his pants. Lifting one foot, he used the heel of his boot to snuff out his cigarette butt before flicking it aside. “Gimme your phone, slut.” He held out a hand expectantly, and Damien didn’t hesitate to reach into his pocket for his phone, unlocking it and pressing it into the wolf’s palm.

While he pushed himself up and got his feet under himself, he watched the wolf sliding and tapping away at his screen, plugging his number into Damien’s contacts before handing it back to him. “Next time I’m in town, you better believe I’m gonna give you a call when I’ve got a little more time to play. Gonna breed that sweet little ass proper,” he growled while grabbing Damien once more by the scruff of the neck.

Damien could vividly picture himself hunched over and biting the pillow while the massive wolf loomed over him, laying claim to him from behind. His cock twitched in his jeans, already having leaked so much precum that if he hadn’t been wearing a black pair the wet spot that had seeped all the way through the material would have been clearly visible. He just nodded meekly and whispered, “Yes, Daddy…”

Satisfied, the wolf retrieved the pass he’d been dangling in front of Damien to tempt him from his pocket and draped the lanyard over his head, letting it settle over the back of his neck. “Good boy. Now get.” He pointed down the hallway to their left with two fingers. “Follow this around, it’ll take you right to the backstage lounge. Better hurry if you wanna meet the boss before he dips back to his dressing room.” He didn’t let Damien get away without a parting slap on the ass as he passed.

Damien smirked back over his shoulder and winked at the wolf before rounding the corner, looking forward to that bootycall almost as much as he was to meeting Mettaton. That did leave him with the rather awkward conundrum of powerwalking towards his destination because he was excited and in a hurry, while simultaneously wanting to slow down, chill out and think about something boring so could avoid having a raging hard-on when he walked up to introduce himself to Mettaton. Then again, the sultry robot was more than likely used to it by now…


	2. The One Wherein Damien and Mettaton Fuck(working title)

Damien arrived at the backstage lounge without incident, poking his head around the doorframe to sneak a glance in before he entered. There was a small bar, a pinball machine, plenty of comfortable furniture placed around the room, a large TV on one wall currently muted with the subtitles on and tuned to the news, and the walls were covered with photos of all the biggest acts who had played the venue over the decades, many of which were signed.

He had never been backstage before, and hadn’t been quite sure what to expect. The vibe was much more chill than his vague notions of the drummer standing on the coffee table and shouting for everyone to watch as he injected heroin into his eyeballs, however. Everyone seemed to just be sitting or standing around chatting and unwinding after the show. The band was there, of course ─ Mettaton’s usual backing musicians of Napstablook and Shyren, as well as the outrageously costumed Canadian electronic rock/synthpop/electro-funk superstars Food Storage Container Soiree(or FSCS) with whom they were touring.

There were also a handful of casual suits who Damien assumed were manager/agent/producer types, and a few other fans who had either found their own bouncers to get off or acquired access through more traditional means such as money and/or influence. They were hovering around various band members, trying and failing to be chill. One was all but foaming at the mouth as she chatted up Admiral Meowz, the tiger bassist of FSCS.

Then, of course, there was Mettaton. _Holy shit_ , literally ****there**** was Mettaton! He laid sprawled across a plush black leather sofa in the back, his torso more or less centered with his world-famous legs bent at the knees to drape over one armrest and his arms stretched out overhead and looking exhausted. It was pure acting, of course ─ thanks to a steady stream of advancements and upgrades from the brilliant Dr. Alphys, his body’s energy consumption had been made so efficient that it had been years since he’d legitimately experienced low power mode. That didn’t prevent him from feigning weariness for the drama. After such an amazing show, and presumably a good bit of schmoozing with everyone else present before Damien had arrived, he felt entitled.

Damien gulped, his tail thrashing around behind him, before he stepped into the doorway and moved towards Mettaton. He walked with purpose, but not so fast as to appear to be making a crazed beeline, looking down at his own feet so he didn’t trip as he was far too self-conscious of his gait suddenly. He didn’t want to put his idol off, or disturb him too much…just say hello, gush a little bit, maybe ask for a picture and then bail. Be cool, he told himself. He’d never heard of even a single instance of Mettaton being anything less than gracious with his fans, and desperately hoped he wouldn’t be the first.

Mettaton clocked the spicy red baby the instant he appeared in the doorframe, smirking at his nervous approach. How adorable. He was cute, too…toned, lanky, a little rough around the edges ─ the broken horn was definitely a conversation-piece. Sitting up straight to face forward with his legs crossed at the knee, he patted the cushion beside him invitingly as he made room for Damien on the sofa. “And what can I do for _you_ , darling?”

Damien balked a little at that, having been unprepared for such an enthusiastic greeting. After a moment he realized he was being offered a place to sit and quickly took it, turning slightly in his seat to face Mettaton. The bot likewise pivoted a bit, leaning forward and propping an elbow on his knee and giving Damien his full attention and eye contact. “Uh…hey, Mettaton. Great show tonight. I mean, of course it was, why wouldn’t it be. You’re just, _so_ great and, and, ahh shit-” Before he could go into a feedback loop and melt down, Mettaton pressed a single, elegantly engineered finger to his lips. The blush that darkened his already-red features gave Mettaton more energy than the wireless charger he’d discretely plugged in beneath the sofa.

“Shhh,” Mettaton shushed in a sultry whisper. “Breathe, darling. Let’s start with something simple. What’s your name?” The androgynous, pale features of the star looked amused as his black-glossed lips curled into a little smile, but Damien felt he was being laughed with, not at. He chuckled as that finger fell away from his lips and took the advice, taking in a deep breath through his nose and exhaling it as a sigh before he tried to speak again.

He was a bit more successful this time. “Damien. Damien LaVey. It’s…such an honor to meet you, I’ve been a big fan for a long time.” He offered his hand, suffering another split-second panic attack as he second guessed the gesture until Mettaton clasped it firmly with his own, and then laid his other hand over the back of Damien’s. Oh, Damien _loved_ the hand sandwich maneuver.

LaVey? Of the Ninth Circle LaVeys? Oh dear, Mettaton was addressing royalty. He decided not to raise the issue, as it might make the young man more self-conscious. “The pleasure is mine, Damien,” said the bot sweetly. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight. I know it’s a sentiment that’s expressed often, but it’s no less true for it, that none of this would be possible without you. Would you like a picture together for your socials?”

Damien was infinitely grateful to Mettaton for streamlining this process, offering before Damien could bring himself to awkwardly ask. The bot probably had this down to a science by now, which shouldn’t have surprised him. “Hell yeah! I mean, absolutely, thank you,” he stammered while digging into a pocket for his phone. He had it about halfway out before Mettaton tapped the back of his hand with a few fingertips and made a shooing motion.

“Put that away, I think I can do you one better.” Raising his hand and snapping his fingers, three hovering black spheres lifted out of their sockets in a charging station nearby and drifted over. As an avid fan, Damien recognized them as Mettaton’s personal cameras he tended to use when he was out and about, filming for vlogs or reality TV. Not content to just be the star, he also had to be the director and the cameraman most of the time. Though to be fair, such multitasking was likely easier when you could wirelessly interface with almost any technology and had the processing power to review three live video feeds in your head in real time while walking and talking.

Each orb had a rotating piece to cycle through 3 different lenses. For the moment, a single unit with the close-up lens sufficed. It hovered a few feet back at about eye level, the other two keeping out of the way but nearby, as Mettaton leaned in close. Shoulder to shoulders, faces close but not touching, easy to center in the frame ─ basic dual selfie 101 pose. “Smile, darling.” Damien didn’t think he could have stopped himself from smiling if he’d tried.

There was a quick series of barely audible shutter sounds as it took about ten different frames of the one shot, for the best one to be cherry-picked later. Damien had thought that was the end of it, before Mettaton slid an arm around him, over his shoulder, and place a hand against his chest for another series of pictures, slightly more intimate. Then he draped one of those gorgeous legs across Damien’s lap for the next phase, and he nearly fainted. That perfectly sculpted thigh was _so_ soft, and dangerously close to the bulge he’d managed to coax down to merely half-erect during his walk here from the backstage entrance. That was quickly changing.

Mettaton then turned his head, closing his eyes as he planted his lips against Damien’s cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the pictures in his mind as they were taken, and the shocked look on the boy’s face was priceless. Going in for the kill, Mettaton climbed astride Damien’s lap, back arched and round, bubbly ass raised a bit. He guided Damien’s hands to his shapely hips, and shot the camera droid a smoldering smirk back over one shoulder, making sure Damien’s face was still visible.

There was no way this wasn’t intentional, Damien thought. His now painfully stiff bulge was pressed directly against the bot’s sleek crotch, and though Mettaton never seemed to have a visible bulge of any kind when onstage, Damien was certain he felt a small throb in return. He couldn’t help but give those hips a squeeze, and was rewarded with a brief, hungry look from Mettaton before the bot slid off his lap and back beside him on the sofa as if nothing had happened. “There, that should give you a nice selection. The resolution on my cameras is something else, so the filesizes on the pics can get a little bloated. Why don’t I just archive them and send them to your Dropbox, and you can-” Mettaton’s white cheeks took on a soft pink hue as he turned to Damien with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, invading people’s digital privacy is something I’m trying to get better about. It’s rather effortless for me, so it’s easy to do without thinking at times.”

Damien was far too starstruck and now also horny to be properly outraged about his phone having been hacked. Polly had done it before just to prank him with, and as far as he was concerned, his idol doing it to ease the process of sending him a bunch of sexy pictures he’d treasure for the rest of his life and also be using tomorrow to make everyone at school jealous wasn’t as big of a deal. “It’s fine, really. And, thanks. For being so cool about this, for the pictures, for-”…’for grinding on my dick?’…”-everything.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, darling. It’s the least I can do!” Mettaton leaned in close and murmured into Damien’s ear. “I hope my security weren’t _too_ rough with you~” The shocked look on Damien’s once again blushing face made him chuckle as he stood from the sofa. His security staff, which just so happened to consist entirely of massive, handsome, dominant men, had multiple facets to their job description. Aside from the basic duties ─ standing around looking intimidating to prevent people from starting anything, roughing them up and tossing them out if they did ─ they were also Mettaton’s personal stable of studs for when he wanted to decompress after a show by getting absolutely destroyed, and talent scouts who kept an eye out for cute groupies to send his way. All in all, it was a pretty satisfying job. Also satisfying was the embarrassment whenever he revealed to one of said groupies that he was in the know for just how they acquired their backstage pass.

“I think I’m going to retire,” Mettaton said nonchalantly. Damien’s heart sank a bit. He’d been hoping to get to spend a little more time talking to Mettaton, but even their brief exchange and having the sultry bot cocktease him was an honor. He didn’t wish to appear ungrateful, and was in the midst of trying to formulate a polite response wishing Mettaton a good night, when he noticed the hand Mettaton was offering down to him to help him up. “Be a dear and walk me to my dressing room, won’t you, Damien?”

Damien took the deceptively dainty-looking hand and was easily pulled to his feet. Mettaton may have exuded lithe, feminine grace, but his robotic frame gave him incredible strength and durability. “It would be my absolute pleasure,” he said with a grin while gallantly offering his arm. Mettaton delightedly latched onto it, falling into step beside the demon prince and guided them out the door, hanging a left down the hall towards his dressing room. Damien’s heart was hammering in his chest, not quite able to believe that what he thought was happening actually seemed to be happening, and Mettaton’s highly tuned senses made him clearly aware of his adoring fan’s accelerated heart rate. He smiled and laid his head over Damien’s shoulder.

When they reached the door, which was black with Mettaton’s logo on it, the pink heart with the ‘MTT’ in gold cursive, the bot opened the door and pulled Damien in by the hand, smiling encouragingly. Damien gulped, trying to think of something smooth or clever to say and came up utterly empty, just letting himself be lead in stunned silence. Closing the door behind him, he took a quick glance around. The room was currently lit by strips of pink LED mood lighting along the edges of the floor and ceiling. In the soft lighting he could make out a big elaborate vanity desk, a rolling rack with a bunch of stage costumes on hangers, a large cabinet or armoire of some sort, and a heart-shaped bed. It was only the most cursory glance to get a feel for his surroundings before his focus returned to Mettaton, who was standing intimately close with a smirk on his lips and pink cartoon hearts lighting up his irises.

Mettaton stepped forward until he had Damien backed against the door, smiling down at him and taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt his head up. He drank in the awe in Damien’s eyes while gazing up at him for a moment before closing the distance to kiss him, sliding his tongue into the demon’s mouth and leisurely exploring. Damien’s hands shot up to grab him firmly by his bubbly ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze and tugging him close. He let out a muffled little moan of approval, lifting one leg to hook around Damien’s waist and grind his crotch against the throbbing bulge in his current favorite fan’s jeans.

Damien’s head was swimming, and he kneaded those plush ass cheeks as he worked his tongue against Mettaton’s, grunting softly and rocking his hips to grind feverishly back against him in kind. He gasped when Mettaton finally broke the kiss, and felt the white-gloved fingers of one of Mettaton’s hands bury themselves in his hair over the back of his head as the bot leaned in to speak in a breathless, sultry whisper into his ear. “My, aren’t _we_ eager,” he purred while sliding his other hand down between them and cupping that aching stiffness with his palm. “I like that. I’m feeling like I could go either way tonight, darling. So why don’t you tell me exactly what you’d like to do to me? Or, what you’d like me to do to _you_ , if you prefer…”

He was also in kind of a switch mood, the wolf having stirred up his infrequently indulged submissive tendencies…but with his hands full of those perfect ass cheeks, it wasn’t difficult to decide. “I want to fuck you,” he murmured back simply and honestly, while dipping his head to kiss at the side of Mettaton’s pale neck. Mettaton’s eyelids fluttered closed as he rolled his head back with a sigh, exposing his neck and giving Damien’s throbbing cock a playful squeeze.

“I think we can make that work, darling.” Dexterously popping the button of Damien’s fly with his thumb and drawing down the tab of the zipper, he tugged down the elastic waistband of his boxerbriefs and allowed his big, stiff red dick already copiously smeared with precum to spring out into the open. He cooed, wrapping a hand around it and stroking it excitedly as it throbbed and twitched in his grasp. “Mmm, yes, we can _definitely_ do that.”

Sinking to his knees, he placed his hands over Damien’s hips and pushed his ass flush against the door, forcefully but playfully. He gazed up at him, nuzzling his soft, pale cheek against that engorged red cockhead before opening those pouty black lips and saying ‘ah.’ The next thing Damien knew, he was balls-deep in Mettaton’s mouth and throat, the bot having sunk his head forward in one decisive bob and taken the entire thing. “Oh, ****fuck****!” Damien’s knees nearly buckled, and he realized that may have been why Mettaton was firmly grasping his hips ─ to hold him up in case his legs gave out. He grasped the bot’s dark, silken locks with both hands and rocked against him, grinding his balls against that delicate chin. Mettaton only let out a single, muted little ‘gllk’.

He’d had Alphys outfit him with all sorts of frivilous options he didn’t really _need_ , per se, but were fun to play around with and which could be toggled on and off at will. He didn’t breathe, and thus had no practical need for a gag reflex...but he’d had one installed anyway, as well as ducts that dispensed artificial tears. Both were currently disengaged, but when he was with one of his studs who really enjoyed doling out the rough stuff he could make ample sloppy wet gagging sounds as he was throat-fucked, with tear-streaked mascara running down his pale features ─ the whole works. He was more in the mood to show off by effortlessly deepthroating at the moment, and began to bob his head slowly up and down.

He slurped, his throat pulsed and clenched like one of those expensive blowjob machines ─ Damien assumed, he’d seen them online but as someone who had relatively little trouble finding people who wanted to suck his dick, had never had the desire to purchase one ─ and it felt like his tongue was long enough that it was actually wrapping _around_ that throbbing girth and stroking him off into that amazing mouth. Damien huffed, his nostrils flared, and tried to buck his hips but found he couldn’t move a centimeter with Mettaton’s hands pinning him in place. He panted as the bot pulled off of his cock with a wet little pop as the head cleared his lips, gazing down at him with unabashed need.

Mettaton flicked his tongue briefly, teasingly over that swollen cockhead as that veiny organ bobbed in front of him. “Tell me honestly, Damien. If I let you cum, are you going to be able to keep it up for me afterwards?” He had a suspicion the demon would have more stamina than the average mortal, and a lessened if not completely absent refractory period. It never hurt to make sure, though. It would be a shame for their fun to end so soon.

Damien nodded eagerly. “ _Fuck_ yeah I can. For you, Mettaton? I can go as long as you need me to,” he said confidently while combing his fingertips through the bot’s hair. The assurance in that statement made Mettaton believe, and the swirl of fan worship mixed in made him grin like the Cheshire cat.

“Mmm, good boy. That’s _just_ what I wanted to hear.” Without further delay, he shoved his throat back down around that lovely demonic cock and began rapidly bobbing his head and applying tremendous suction.

“U-Uhhn!! Mettaton, I’m gonna…fuckin’…” Damien stammered, cut off by a heavy groan as he came. As Mettaton felt that fat cock began to pulse in his throat, he released Damien’s hips to let him arch his spine away from the door and grind vigorously against his face, reaching around to give the prince’s taut ass cheeks a squeeze and pull him closer. The bot’s throat squeezed and massaged his dick unnaturally, waves of pressure encircling the base and coaxing down the length of the shaft to milk him thoroughly of every last drop of his cum.

“Mmmmlnf~” Mettaton slowly pulled back a few moments after he was certain Damien’s load was utterly spent, dabbing daintily at the corners of his lips. True to his word, Damien’s cock was still rock hard and standing proud. Mettaton smirked and gave the head an affectionate little kiss. “That’s what I like to see, darling. Now, why don’t we-oh my!” Mettaton giggled girlishly and kicked his feet as Damien hunched over and he was unexpectedly swept off his feet in a bridal carry. Despite his slender, rather feminine frame, he _was_ made mostly of metal and was a lot heavier than he looked or cared to admit. It wasn’t often he found someone capable of sweeping him off his feet ─ or knees, in this case ─ and it was an unexpected pleasure. This young man’s strength and virility made him confident they were going to have a wonderful evening together.

He was silently grateful when Damien laid him gently down on the bed rather than tossing him. The frame was reinforced, but he’d never thrown his full weight recklessly onto it to really stress-test its tensile strength, and having it collapse under him would’ve been frightfully embarrassing. He wrapped his legs around the demon prince’s waist, and his arms up around his neck, drawing him down into another deep, hungry kiss…moaning as Damien slowly rocked his hips to grind that hot, hard and now saliva-slickened cock against him. When they drew apart from the kiss, Damien murmured against his lips while sliding his hands down over his hips. “Are these easily replacable?”

He hooked his thumbs under the tight black material of Mettaton’s leg coverings to indicate what he was talking about. They weren’t cheap, so Mettaton tried not to be _too_ frivilous with them…but he did have more than one extra pair, and if Damien was asking the question he thought he was asking, he decided in the moment that it was very much worth it. Mettaton nodded, biting his lip with excitement. “Do it,” he urged and let out a sharp gasp as fiery claws sprung from the tips of Damien’s fingers so he could rend the expensive material viciously away. A bit was left clinging in tatters to his legs, having been tucked into his high pink boots, but from the mid-thighs up he was now bare.

His erect cock, rather small, twitched as Damien ground theirs together and wrapped a hand around both. “Wait, darling,” he said as he reached up to place a hand against Damien’s chest, urging him back a bit. He was wearing what he tended to think of as his ‘stage cock’, which due to its manageable size and a clever tuck pouch in the leggings Damien had just destroyed, minimized or eliminated any noticeable bulging. It wasn’t quite what he was feeling at the moment, however. He pointed over Damien’s shoulder, directing his attention and making him glance back at the armoire-thing he’d taken the barest notice of when he’d first come on.

A little embedded black panel on the side had a glowing red light, which switched off and was replaced by a green one as there was a click of magnetic locks being disengaged, and a hiss of steam as the doors opened. What Damien had assumed to be simply a dresser, or perhaps a fancy liquor cabinet for guests, was revealed to be specialized storage for Mettaton’s assortment of modular genitalia. He slid off the bed and walked over in amazement to look the collection over. They were recessed into a thick black foam material like expensive computer parts being shipped. There were 10 slots, including an empty one meant for the one Mettaton currently had installed, labelled 4”. In ascending order, there was then a 6”, an 8”, a 10”, a 12”, an equine cock that had a row all to itself, a double-barreled shark clasper, and on the bottom row three vaginas that were outwardly identical-looking ─ smooth, delicate pink lips and a perfect little pearl clit ─ which he assumed must therefore be different internally. “Hell’s bells,” he muttered.

As he stood there experiencing choice paralysis, Mettaton came up behind him and slid his arms around him to caress his chest. “Pick out anything that catches your fancy, loverboy.” He nuzzled against the back of Damien’s neck before peering around him to watch with interest and see which he chose. He wasn’t as big on the female selections, which one might have been able to guess due to their placement as the bottom row and their being a minority to the wider selection of masculine genitalia. His gender identity skewed more towards male, albeit androgynous or feminine male, but once in a while he swung the other way. It also provided some more flexible options for getting gangbanged. He smiled as Damien reached out to graze a fingertip over the side of the shaft for the 8” humanoid model. “Good choice. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable on the bed…” He turned Damien away from the armoire and nudged him in the direction of the bed. “And I’ll join you in a moment.”

Mettaton pulled out a 4-panel Japanese style dressing screen that had been folded up and leaned against the side of the armoire, rice paper with a cherry blossom pattern on the front, and unfolded it between himself and the bed. As unselfconscious as he would have been parading around naked, or performing sex acts in front of a small audience, he was oddly shy about swapping out his parts or otherwise exposing his mechanical inner workings. It felt akin to a medical procedure, and Alphys was really the only one he was comfortable sharing that sort of thing with. Damien heard some clicking and hissing as he laid on the bed, propped up on one elbow and stroking his cock, but didn’t see anything until Mettaton folded the screen back up.

Now sporting a stiff, throbbing cock that was considerably longer and thicker than before, nearly as large as Damien’s own, Mettaton strutted towards the bed and crawled atop Damien, nudging their lengths together and rolling his hips playfully. “Now then, where were we…?”

Damien wrapped his hands around their shafts and resumed stroking them together, as Mettaton leaned down to kiss him again. They made out slowly and passionately, with Mettaton seemingly in no rush and Damien all too glad to oblige. Damien’s cock, still slick from the synthetic facsimile for saliva Mettaton had left it coated with, glid smoothly against the bot's as they rocked their hips in an asymmetrical rhythm, the whole affair soon made even more slick from both of them leaking precum.

Eventually, Damien broke the kiss, placing his hands on Mettaton's hips, and slowly rolled him over onto his back. He normally preferred to take his conquests face down, ass up, but he would have to have been crazy not to position Mettaton face up so he could fully utilize those lovely, iconic legs. Grabbing the slender ankles of those shiny pink boots, he swiftly and decisively folded Mettaton in half with his feet over his shoulders, fully aware of how flexible and durable the bot was and that he wouldn’t be overtaxing him.

“Oh, my!” Mettaton gasped delightedly at Damien’s forcefulness, squirming beneath him and curling his toes inside his boots. It took most of his lovers a good deal of coaxing and reassuring for him to persuade them he was built much tougher than he looked, and to be as rough with him as they liked. Damien seemed to know without having to be told, and it thrilled him.

“Hold these for me,” Damien said while smirking down at him. Mettaton eagerly reached up and wrapped his hands around the 4” heels of his boots to hold his legs up and spread and free up Damien’s hands. Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft to steady himself, he scooted forward a bit on his knees and nudged his plump cockhead against the tight little pucker between the perfectly smooth, round, pale globes of Mettaton’s asscheeks. He gave a firm, experimental little nudge with his hips, testing to see if they were going to be good to go or if more lube was going to be required and gasped so sharply he didn’t seem able to breathe for a few seconds afterwards as it effortlessly swallowed his cockhead.

Mettaton’s ass was paradoxically the tightest, and yet easiest to penetrate orifice he’d ever pushed his cock into. There was no resistance while entering, yet it was exquisitely tight once he was in. And _warm_. As a being born of hellfire, his body temperature ran a bit hotter than most, and his partners often felt lukewarm by comparison ─ but Mettaton’s insides were hot, to a degree he imagined would have been severely uncomfortable for anyone but him, and suspected it was an on-the-fly tweak solely for his benefit. Also, slick. Even without any pregame lubrication beyond the saliva and precum already clinging to the surface of Damien’s cock, those snug walls were slippery in a way that allowed him to glide with no unpleasant friction, just that wonderful tightness.

Tight, warm and slick…perfectly so on all three fronts. Alphys deserved a Nobel prize for designing this ass alone, on top of every other amazing feature of Mettaton’s body. Damien wanted nothing more than to slam balls-deep into him and never stop fucking him. With Mettaton’s endurance, he had a strong suspicion it wouldn’t be a problem if he did, so he didn’t hesitate. Mettaton cried out as the eager demon hammered every inch of that thick, throbbing cock deep inside him with a single thrust. It was a cry of pure pleasure, his spine arching off the bed, his mouth hanging open, legs trembling in his grasp, his cock throbbing and spurting a jet of precum over his torso. “Oh, _gods!_ ”

He relinquished his grasp on his heels, both so that he could wrap his legs tightly around Damien’s waist, crossing his ankles over the small of the young stud’s back like he never wanted him to pull out, and so he could take Damien’s face in his hands, stroking those flushed red cheeks with the soft pads of his white-gloved thumbs. The hearts were back in his eyes as he met Damien’s gaze intently. “Damien,” he murmured breathlessly. “I want you ****fuck**** me. As hard. As you can. Do you understand?”

There was something wild, almost primal, in Damien’s eyes as he nodded his understanding, his cock throbbing deep inside the bot. No further words were necessary, and he had none to spare as every synapse in his brain dedicated itself to putting his hip, back and thigh muscles fully into every deep, savage thrust that quickly followed Mettaton’s lustful command. The thankfully soundproofed room became filled with the machine gun clapping of Mettaton’s ass cheeks as Damien’s hips crashed against them, the creaking groans of the bedframe ─ made of welded together steel I-beams or no ─ and Mettaton’s pleasured cries.

He grasped Mettaton’s wrists and pinned them to the bed above him, hunched over him, huffing and growling through gritted teeth as he speared his considerable length and girth into his lovely fucktoy. He fucked Mettaton like he was trying to break him. He surely _would_ have broken any mortal lover with the force he was exerting. Pelvis shattered, inner workings pulped…but Mettaton could not only take it, he seemed to crave it. Damien was cutting loose with no restraint for the first time in his life, and he saw red.

Without being aware of it, he started to change in a way he never had before. His eyes went solid yellow, his pupils and irises completely gone. His horns seemed to grow slightly, becoming thicker at the base and the one that wasn’t broken became a bit longer with a more pronounced curve. The spade at the end of his tail became more pronounced as it thrashed behind him ─ less like a cartoon heart and more like an arrowhead: elongated, pointy at the tip, sharp along the edges, with two pronounced points splitting back from the base. His fingertips became claws that shredded through the comforter of the bed beneath Mettaton’s wrists. Little snorts of fire expelled from his flared nostrils. The look on his face could only properly be described as ‘murderfuck.’ Mettaton could feel the veins standing out along the surface of his shaft, engorged enough to give that pistoning cock an entirely different texture. He stared up, wide-eyed in a blend of about 10% fear and 90% arousal at the spectacle.

Considering how hard they were going, it shouldn’t have been a shock that it wasn’t to last long. Mettaton didn’t mind. It was amazing enough that it would’ve been worth it even had this been the end of it, but he believed in Damien’s boasts about being able to go all night and fully intended to hold him to that claim. For now, he surrendered as he felt the most intense orgasm of his life creeping up on him. “D-Damien, I’m going to-” He let out a high, feminine ‘ah!’ as his cock spasmed and twitched, the first two shots of cum that erupted from his cockhead having enough pressure behind him to hit him in the face, leaving two gleaming white streaks, one of which interrupted by where it had partially landed in his open mouth. The rest glazed his chest and abdomen as he squeezed and pulled Damien wildly against him with his legs, his fingers straining and curling to claw at the air as his wrists remained held down. He screamed, “Cum inside me! Fucking ****breed me!!**** ”

Damien roared with demonic savagery, burying himself balls-deep and filling the wonderfully slutty bot with more demonic seed than he had ever produced in a single climax before. It gushed and spurted lewdly out around the base of his shaft to dribble messily down his balls and Damien’s asscheeks and soak into the pink comforter beneath them. He hunched forward to sink his suddenly sharper teeth hard enough into the side of Mettaton’s exposed neck to break skin, but be blunted by the metal framework beneath so no serious damage could be done. Mettaton’s mouth hung open but no sound emerged, his legs twitching around Damien’s waist and his entire body racked with spasmodic little shudders.

Damien came to his senses with an odd taste in his mouth, somewhere between motor oil and water-based lubricant. He drew back a bit, gazing with slight dawning horror at the ring of toothmark puncture wounds in the pale flesh of Mettaton’s neck. Thankfully the bot didn’t bleed, or it might have been considerably more traumatic. The bot’s eyes were wide, solid blue save for white text and a blinking cursor that were far too tiny to read. Damien had never used a computer old enough to produce a blue screen of death and didn’t get the reference.

“Mettaton…?” He shifted slightly, releasing the bot’s wrists and bringing a shaky hand to touch his cheek, while he pulled his still-twitching cock slightly out of that still amazingly tight hole. Mettaton’s eyes went black for a second, then came back up as normal after the Windows NT 4.0 startup sound had emerged from the speaker holes in his chest panel. The bot blinked, and quickly squeezed Damien’s waist with his legs to dissuade him from pulling out. With a slight groan, he sank back in, not needing much convincing. Oh, thank fuck he hadn’t accidentally fucked his idol to death.

Mettaton smirked up at him, his tongue emerging to make a slow pass over those black lips and swipe away a bit of his own cum still lingering there. He reached up around Damien’s neck, dragging his fingertips up his back, suddenly wishing they’d taken the time to undress him properly so he could feel that toned musculature beneath his fingertips. “I’m fine, darling. That was…intense. Where did _you_ go there?” He settled for stroking the back of Damien’s neck, since his back was still covered.

Damien chuckled nervously, nuzzling into Mettaton’s palm as his other hand slid around to caress his cheek. “I don’t really know, that’s never happened to me before. What about you…?”

The bot smiled warmly, leaning up to kiss the demon’s lips softly and reassuringly. “A night of firsts for both of us, then. Nobody’s ever fucked me into a hard reboot before, stud.” He leaned in a bit more to purr into Damien’s ear, clenching his ass to give that still stiff cock a squeeze. “And still hard for me, to boot~?” He kissed at his ear, and down his jaw a bit while Damien grunted softly and rocked his hips to jab that throbbing cock deeper into him, making him shudder.

“Fuck yeah,” Damien growled, a wicked grin curling his lips. “You want more?” He wrapped a hand around Mettaton’s throat, stroking his thumb over the bite marks.

“Mmmhmmm,” Mettaton cooed, sliding his hands around to Damien’s chest to grab a fistful of the material of his jacket with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. “But let’s get you out of these. I want to enjoy every inch of you.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The rest of the night and into the next morning was a whirlwind, a sexual tour de force. While they didn’t manage a repeat of Damien’s savage demonic transformation, they kept it pretty rough most of the time. Damien had him from behind, bent over the side of the bed. On his elbows and knees, both on the bed and on the floor. Against the wall, both from behind and facing each other with his legs wrapped around Damien’s waist. Laying on their sides with Damien holding one of his legs in the air.

Things had eventually started to get a little more tender, and at one point they had switched things up with Damien laying on his back and his legs around Mettaton’s waist in a mirroring of their first coupling as they made out and Mettaton gave him a slow, deep, sensual…almost tantric dicking. Now, at some indeterminate hour in the early morning, Damien was still laying on his back, but with Mettaton decked out in a slutty French maid’s uniform he’d pulled out of his wardrobe, slowly riding his cock. He held the bot’s hips and squeezed affectionately, and Mettaton’s twitching cock adorably tented the frilly little skirt.

They both jumped a little when there was a knock at the door. The muffled voice of one of the roadies came through, “Mettaton? We’ve got the rest of the gear packed up except for your dressing room, we gotta roll out in two hours.”

Mettaton gave a frustrated little groan, shot an apologetic smile down at Damien while stroking his cheek, and turned his head to call back loudly enough to be heard through the door. “Give me a little bit to make myself presentable, darling, and I’ll be ready!” He turned back to Damien, leaning down to give him a slow, deep kiss and a wistful sigh as he pulled away. “Looks like our time is up, loverboy. You’d better finish-” He yelped as Damien squeezed his hips and began to shove his ass up and down while bucking his hips up off the bed to hammer that magnificent demonic cock into him. “-u-up!!”

The bot had been slow-riding him for about twenty minutes, deliberately edging themselves, so it took less than a minute of vigorous fucking when they were both focused on wrapping up before Damien groaned, shoved Mettaton’s ass down around the root of his shaft and flooded his ass with cum for what was easily the fifteenth time ─ probably more, they’d lost count. While he filled him, he reached beneath that skirt to wrap his hand around Mettaton’s twitching shaft, stroking him off quickly and in a manner of seconds he let out a whimper and made a sticky mess of the ruffled white lace underlayer.

He collapsed atop Damien’s chest, kissing his neck and stroking his hair. “…mmmmmmm. Thank you for a _wonderful_ evening, darling. But the show must go on, as they say.” He shivered as Damien pulled out of him, and rolled off of him to flop onto his back beside him so Damien could get up.

“Yeah…” Damien sounded disappointed, but not unreasonably so. He’d known it would have to end at some point, that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. He sat up, giving Mettaton’s shapely thigh a pat before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “I’m in no shape to be seen in public, I might just hell-portal home.” He glanced at the section of the wall he’d pinned Mettaton against, smirking with satisfaction at the Mettaton-shaped cracks in the plaster. He jerked a thumb in its direction. “Since you’re probably not getting your deposit back or whatever anyway, you mind if I-?”

“Go ahead, darling. Whatever you like. Last night was _well_ worth what I’ll have to pay the venue to cover damages.” He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow with his chin in hand to watch with interest and see what he was going to do.

Damien approached the wall and wrapped his teeth around part of his forearm, just below his wrist and chomped down hard enough to draw blood. He then began to collect it with a fingertip of his other hand, and used it to draw a pentagram on the wall. Normally he likely would’ve just scrawled it into the wall’s surface with a knife, but Mettaton’s security were on their game and had confiscated all five of the various pocket knives he’d tried to smuggle in. Demon blood worked better anyway, so whatever. A few infernal sigils later, and the circle exploded outward with hellfire which didn’t so much as make Damien blink as it washed over him. A portal to his room now stood on the wall, the edges crackling and smoking a bit as he gathered up his scattered clothes from off the floor.

Mettaton had slid off the bed by this point, and come over to kiss him goodbye. He placed his lips sweetly Damien’s forehead, just above his eyebrows so the horns wouldn’t get in his way. “I’m going to expect to see you again the next time I’m in town.”

Damien grinned at that, satisfied. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to find a way to look forward to Mettaton’s next tour any more than he always had, but life was full of surprises. “I’ll be here. Front row center, by whatever means necessary. Bye, Mettaton.” He glanced back fondly over his shoulder as he stepped through the portal and was swallowed up by a wall of fire, consuming the blood circle that had spawned it and leaving only a cracked and now scorched wall in its wake.

Mettaton set an internal calendar reminder to send Damien a couple of VIP tickets and backstage passes for a year or so from now when he was likely to be working out the details of his next tour, and began humming Highway To Hell to himself as he sashayed around the room readying his personal effects to be loaded up onto the truck and hauled to the next town on the tour. Next stop: Bellwood, NJ.


End file.
